


Dragon Age Origins: A Touch of Magic

by MadameGandalf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Multi, Novelization, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameGandalf/pseuds/MadameGandalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being torn away from her life amongst the Dalish, Ariava finds her whole life turned upside down. It's never easy to let go of your past. It's especially hard when you're constantly being thrown in new directions. How do you remain yourself while in the midst of so much darkness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at writing, especially writing a fanfiction. I do not own any of Bioware's wonderful characters.  
> Special thanks to gabtinha for their help and encouragement with this story and to LarienSurion for their initial beta-read!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Strong Language at points.

_"You were born amidst the Dalish elves: noble wanderers who refuse to join the society of humans that subjugated their homeland so long ago. The Dalish travel the land in tightly knit clans, struggling to maintain their half-forgotten lore in a human world that fears and despises them."_

* * *

The smell of the leaves in the wind, the moss on the trees, and the freshly drying rain; home. 

Ariava stirred slowly to the beautiful sounds of singing birds, and to the sight of the many decorative trinkets she’d collected from her travels. Rubbing her eyes forcefully, she glimpsed out of her cosy, yet messy, tent and into the homely camp filled with busy elves. With her dark curls falling around her face, Ariava shoved on her boots before clumsily tumbling out of her tent, mid-lace.

“Ah! So you ARE alive da’len” mocked Ariava's mother, her warm face appearing above Ariava as she continued to battle with the tangled mass of laces.

“I over slept?” the small elf gasped from the ground. "Why didn’t you wake me?” 

From what she could make out through the trees, the sun position suggested it was nearing afternoon. All the elves of the clan were well into their daily duties, causing a hum of action around the camp.  Ariava knew she was supposed to be reading the ancient texts of her clan, learning their history, the writing of elven as well as the old magic ways. As was the duty of the First; her purpose.

“Now why would I wake you on your birthday?” the motherly elf cooed, tucking the wild curls behind Ariava’s pointed ears tenderly as she rose from the dirt at last, having finally conquered her boot laces. “Your father has headed to the nearby shemlen farm”.

“The one with the nice man? The one we can talk to?”

“Yes da'len, and guess what he’s bringing back for you to eat?” she teased. 

Ariava’s long ears perked up, intrigued. 

“Lamb!”

“We’re having stew for dinner?! Really?” the young elf squealed with delight  


“Only because it’s your special day. It’s not everyday you turn eleven!” Ariava’s mother smiled warmly, her ivy green eyes sparkling. 

Giddy with excitement the young elf jumped for joy in circles around her mother. Suddenly, a friendly voice echoed throughout the camp to her.

“Ariava! The Keeper is looking for you, she says she has a special lesson for you today!” Tamlen, a small blonde elf the same age as Ariava called over from a nearby hill.

“Oh!” Ariava ran off immediately, almost forgetting her mother in her flurry. Running backwards she hastily yelled “I’ll be back mamae” before spinning back around and sprinting up the hill, giggles in her breath.

 

Curls abashed by wind, Ariava arrived at the Keepers brightly colored aravel, cartwheeling and giggling hysterically around it.

_My birthday and a special lesson, on a day like this?_  The blue sky and sun twinkling through the trees was always enough to lift her mood, let alone the chance to practice her magic. Ariava could not believe her luck.

“You don’t expect to learn with your feet in the air and head in the dirt, do you?” Ariava stopped herself mid-cartwheel at the comment and fell onto her back with an “Omph”.

“Care to revise first?” the soft-spoken keeper continued. Scrambling to her feet, Ariava grinned and nodded at the elderly keeper. Tattoo ridden and silver haired, she was firm but warm with eyes of grey that twinkled as she smiled.

Ariava stood and took a few steps back, distancing herself a little from the keeper. She closed her emerald green eyes tight, screwed up her face with concentration and held out her hands before her. With a large whoosh, a ball of fire appeared in her hands, the flames licking her palm as she manipulated the ball to her will. 

“And you didn’t even singe your hair this time” the Keeper smiled at Ariava as she played with the fire she made. 

“Ok, now concentrate that flame towards the fire pit and try not to close your eyes, otherwise you could misaim” the keeper warned. 

Scrunching her nose and pouting a little, Ariava guided the flames to the fire pit, dancing it through the air and onto the twigs before her. 

“You have improved much dah’len” the keepers eyes wrinked deep in smile. “Now, this may be a little different, but I’m sure you can manage”. She motioned for Ariava to sit in the grass with her, using her staff to lower herself slowly. 

“Your warmth welcomes flames with ease, but now I want to see if you can embrace the use of ice.” Ariava’s eyes widened with excitement as she tried to stifle an anxious gasp. 

“Do you remember the first snowfall? The southerly winds? The solid lakes?”

“I think so…”

* * *

 

“Do you like it?” Ariava’s mother asked, stepping away from her handmade material masterpiece. 

Ariava spun around gleefully, taking in the sparkling white robes made just for her. Gold embroidered leaves delicately outlined the dress like flames, with the hem being short enough to allow the ever-wriggling Ariava to run as freely as usual. The sleeves were a little longer than Ariava would have liked, but she could not deny how beautiful it was and how special she felt while wearing it. She jumped into her mothers arms and held her tightly. 

“Oh mamae, it’s perfect”. 

Soft hands stroked the wild, chestnut curls softly and tucked some strands back behind her ears. 

Sniff sniff. 

Ariava’s eyes opened suddenly as she sniffed the air and slowly let go of her mother. She grinned cheekily to her as she burst out of the large tent and ran outside to the stew brewing before her father over a fire. He was tall for an elf, and rather muscular too, with similar long wild curls to his daughter. He chuckled as he watched her lean so far over the large pot she was at risk of falling in. 

“Careful da’len, we don’t want to burn your nose” his finger flicked the end of her small, celestial nose. 

She rubbed her nose, giggling and took one more large sniff before sitting herself next to her father and fiddling with his bow and its intricate carvings. 

“I still can’t believe of all dishes, your favorite is this shem mush,” he chuckled heartily, slowly stirring the brown sludge in the pot. “At least it keeps us warm, and I’ve a few ideas to improve it”.

 

The sun was starting to set now, the trees outlined with bright pink and purple skies. Soon, the whole clan was gathered around a large fire enjoying the fresh stew and birthday celebrations with pipes and drums inciting dance around the fire. 

Ariava twirled around with delight, her father often catching her before she tripped over her own feet. Her clumsiness never dampened her enthusiasm, though it did little for her co-ordination. Finally breaking free from dancing, Ariava noticed Tamlen gesturing frantically from the edge of the camp, near the forest. Knowing she was not allowed to stray from camp after dark, she checked that no one was looking and ran with him into the woods. 

Giggling together in the moonlight, they leaped over logs and snuck to a nearby shallow river. She had always enjoyed her secret rendezvous with Tamlen, especially when a stream could be found to play in. They searched the muddy banks for smooth pebbles together and skimmed stones across the sparkling river.

“So what did Keeper Marethari teach you today? Can you show me?” Tamlen asked, fascinated with his magical friend. 

She looked at him with an embarrassed expression “I… I haven’t really mastered it or anything. All I can really do is this…” 

She pushed out her hands and crinkled her nose in concentration as a wave of snowflakes flew around Tamlen, sending shivers down his spine.

“Wow…” he exclaimed with awe. “I wish I was a mage, I would love to have magic powers!”

“Really? What kind of powers?” Ariava questioned him, intrigued as she sat herself down on a moss-ridden log.

“Oh I’d just be happy to do anything magical. Though, I often dream of being a primal mage of phenomenal power!” He jumped around the logs and rocks of the bank setting invisible enemies on fire, or striking them with lightning and a mighty roar. Ariava giggled as she watched his antics. 

His icy blue eyes turned to her and he suddenly changed his tune “I have something for you, for your birthday!”. 

The small elf fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a small, wooden (slightly clumsy in its carving) Halla and placed it tenderly in her hands.

“I made it myself. Mamae’s been teaching me in case I don’t make it as a hunter” his head fell a little at the thought.

Ariava looked at the treasure lovingly, “It’s beautiful! Are you sure you want to give it to me?”.

“Like I said, it’s a birthday present! Please, keep it!” Tamlen insisted, pushing her palms closed as he sat next to her on the mossy log. She admired the small statuette and all it’s details quietly.

“Thank you, Tamlen.” She looked to him and smiled, her green eyes sparkling from the reflections of the water. 

Tamlen looked nervous, and had suddenly gone bright red. She tilted her head inquisitively at him when all of a sudden his lips met hers in a light kiss. Parting and smiling broadly, Tamlen ran off back towards the camp. 

“Race you!” he yelled behind him.  
  
Ariava, now bright red herself, smiled as she jumped up to follow him.

 

SPLASH! 

Heavy breathing. 

Ariava gasped as she turned behind her to find a human man picking himself up out of the river. Fighting to his knees in his long robes and catching his breath, his head turned back behind him as dogs barked and voices echoed throughout the forest.

“He’s over by the river, find him before he does any more harm”. 

The robed man suddenly noticed the small child frozen with fear infront of him, the barking getting louder as the dogs grew closer. He lunged at Ariava grabbing the small elf tight, a hand clasped over her mouth. She kicked and struggled with all her might but to no avail. She gripped her wooden halla tight. The dogs arrived barking loudly and snapping at the ankles of the man, making Ariava wince.

“FUCK OFF YOU BEASTS”, the man yelled too loud. Ariava shuddered as his haggard breath hit the tips of her ears.

“There he is! Hold! He has a child with him” a man in large armor commanded to the others. 

The soldiers circled them, their swords drawn. She couldn’t help but notice a slight blue aura glowing around the soldiers and the flaming swords embellished on their armor. The dogs stopped barking, but remained pointed at the man, growling.

“Come any closer and the elf dies” the soaking runaway warned, and tightened his grip on the her. He drew out a knife and held it to her throat; The trickle of water now the only sound between the men. 

Ariava glanced towards camp, praying her clan would be running out to save her at any moment.

“You’ve done enough harm, apostate” the Knight-Commander spat at last, his aura glowing brighter by the minute.

Seeing the runaway distracted, Ariava closed her eyes, scrunched up her face and aimed her hands down at the mans robes, setting the hem on fire. The man yelped, dropping Ariava, and doused out the flames himself with a chill wind. Ariava couldn’t believe her eyes. He was also a mage… She scrambled away from the man, only to find herself in the grip of one of the soldiers.

The human mage glared at them before raising his knife into the air yelling “you shall NEVER take me back there!”. 

In one swoop of his arm the blade entered his wrist, but before any blood could even hit the water the man began to change. Screams of pain echoed throughout the forest as he began grow out of his own skin, robes splitting at the seams, his height now too great for the hems. His eyes turned bloodshot and rolled into the back of his head, with the skin from his chin crawling up over his mouth and his hair falling into a bloodied mass on the ground. The bones of his fingers stretched out forcefully, and protruded into long, sharp claws while his shoulders bulged with veins and rotting flesh. He had turned into a large, contorted creature of nightmares; an abomination.

Ariava felt faint at the sight before her. 

Two of the soldiers and the Knight-Commander leapt forward and easily thwarted the abomination in a few swift slashes, the bloody remains washing away to nothing in the river.

“Do you still have the girl?” the Knight-Commander sheathed his sword and turned to her. “Good, we need to take her to the tower.”

“Are-Are you sure Sir?” the young soldier stammered, loosening his grip slightly as he questioned his greying Knight-Commander.

“She’s a mage. You saw her set that idiots robes on fire, and being outside of the circle tower? That makes her an apostate. Just like him”. The Knight-Commander looked down at the small elf before him. Her large, green eyes were glossy and wide. She was scared beyond belief.

“What if she’s one of the dalish sir? She-she doesn’t look like the typical elves we see in the city Alienages.” the young soldier protested, his hazel eyes alight.

The Knight-Commander regarded her for a moment, “The Dalish haven’t walked through these lands in centuries. She’s a mage and there's no clan around to claim her. Take the apostate to the tower immediately”.

“But I’m not an apos… apos… I AM Dalish, my name is Ariava Surana of the Sabrae clan, my father is a hunter and my mother… Please let me go! Let me go!” 

She broke free of the young soldiers grasp and immediately attempted to drench the Knight-Commander in flames. She gaped at the man helplessly as the flames hit some sort of invisible barrier. Staggering, a heavy wave hit her, leaving her breathless. 

She collapsed onto the bank, dropping her birthday treasure from Tamlen into the river.

* * *

 

A constant drip of water, a howl of wind and a crackling fire; Ariava stirred into consciousness only to find herself on the bottom of a wooden bunk-bed surrounded by brick.   


_A cage._

She scrambled amongst the layers of blankets, searching for a way out of her prison.  


“Rest child, you’ve had a long day”. 

She jumped to find a lady not too unlike her Keeper bending down to her, tucking her curls behind her ear and sitting gently down on to the bed.  Looking around the room, she saw many other bunk-beds, surrounded by even more brick. 

No sky, no leaves, no birds. 

“Where’s Mamae? Papa? Tamlen?… Where’s my clan?” she burst out to the old lady, her eyes watering.

“Your clan? You are not from the alienage?” the old lady furrowed her brow in concern, rubbing the back of the elven child gently, as a mother would.

“What’s an alienage? I-I want to go home” she couldn’t hold her tears back anymore. They streamed down her cheek and her nose began to feel stuffy.

“Shh, hush child” the old lady held her close, “you ARE home now. I’m sorry that you know nothing of what has happened, but I promise you, this place will become home to you soon enough and we will be your family”.

Ariava clung tightly to her only source of comfort and peered tearfully around the room again. The bunk-beds were everywhere, some of which were filled with other children (most of them younger than herself) all lined up, peacefully asleep.

“Where am I?” she finally mustered between tears.

“You’re at Klinoch Hold, otherwise known as the Circle of Magi. This is where mages, like yourself, gather to live and learn the ways of magic safely under the watch of the Chantry” the old lady smiled kindly at the young elf, her grey eyes twinkling in the flicker of the flaming torches lining the cold stone walls. 

“My name is Wynne, and welcome to your new home”.

 

_ My cage, my prison. I never should have wondered from my clan..._

* * *

* * *

 


	2. The Art of Gracelessness

 

_"On a cliff overlooking the dark waters of Lake Calenhad stands the tower fortress that is home to the Circle of Magi. This tower is the only place in Ferelden where mages may study their art among others of their kind. Within the high stone walls, the Circle practices its magic and trains apprentices in the proper use of their powers. But the Circle Tower is as much a prison as a refuge; the ever vigilant Templars of the Chantry watch over all mages, constantly alert for any sign of corruption. This gilded cage is now the only world you truly remember. Found to be sensitive to magic at a young age, you were torn from your family and grafted here as an apprentice."_

* * *

The cool breeze hit the tips of Ariava's ears as she took a large deep breath and longingly admired the sunset before her. A beautiful orange hue outlined the edges of trees and the rooftops of the nearby village that reflected in the lake. Inhale, exhale. She took a loving look at the view from atop the tower roof, shifting her weight slightly on the cold tiles as the breeze kissed her skin.

_Maybe I'll be home again someday..._

Several years had passed since she first arrived at the tower and while it had become familiar, it never felt like home. She felt merely tolerated in a mage-fearing world and always under suspicion with the Templars constantly watching nearby. The roof and sunset often provided solitude for her, when the limiting walls of the circle seemed too much to bare.

Gently she begun to slide herself to the edge of the black rooftop. Her toes hooked around the edge of the tiles gripping as tight as possible as she tied her long, blue robes in a tight knot above her knees. Blinking at the view one last time and taking a large deep breath, she swung her legs down and gripped the ledge with her fingers. Carefully she eased her way down the wall, using every gap in the stone to climb her way down the tower.

She quickly found her way down to the nearest window, throwing herself onto the steps inside but snagging her robes on the rough window ledge.

"Shit…" Ariava muttered to herself, clawing helplessly at her ripped up and worn-out robes.

She jumped as she realized she was not alone in the dark hallway.

"So are you crazy, suicidal, or just plain stupid?" a smooth yet cocky voice interrupted through the silence. She noted how his earring reflected the flames of the nearby torch.

"Funny, I could say the same thing about you" she replied coolly to the blonde mage leaning against the wall in front of her. "Last I heard, you were still in solitary from your latest grand escape plan" Ariava continued with a coy smile as she attempted to straighten her robes as best as possible.

"Somehow I feel that falling hundreds of feet from the roof of a tower seems more dangerous than attempting to outrun templars. Call me strange" he smirked back in response.

Giving up on her battle with her robes she sighed, defeated.

_Great._ _Try explaining **this**  one to Wynne._

He chuckled at the sight before him. She was not the elegant elf that stereotypes would have one believe, though she was undoubtedly stunning none the less.

"Maybe we're both looking for the same thing" she conceded to him, now attempting to tame her windswept curls back into a ponytail.

"All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools" he sighed, gazing out the window dreamily.

"Ok, so not quite the same, but I can't deny that a decent meal wouldn't be welcomed".

He chuckled once again at her response.

"Care to join me for a game of wicked grace? I have an inkling you might just be the challenge I've been looking for".

* * *

 

The escapee mage led her down the hall to the library. Books lined the walls on shelves stretching from the ground to the ceiling and colorful rugs attempted to decorate and add warmth to the cold stone floors. Ariava inhaled the musky smell of the old books fondly as she entered the dimly lit room.

The large library was empty, all save for a couple of women giggling together at a wooden table tucked in the corner, and the usual ever-watchful templar standing vigilant near the entrance. She hated how they were constantly being watched by broody templars, treated not too unlike prisoners for simply being born with magic.

"Don't mind him" her companion chirped.

Her face had been more telling than she realized. He'd obviously noticed her unease.

"Cullen is a fan of wicked grace himself. Aren't you Cully?"

The outgoing mage patted the templar on the chest plate as they meandered past him, much to Ariava's amusement.

"Oh er… quite" Cullen added awkwardly.

She had seen Cullen on duty many times during her time in the tower. He was surprisingly polite for a templar and one of the younger to be holed up in the tower with the mages.  _Maybe they feel trapped too?_  A thought she quickly pushed aside.

"I think he likes you" her companion added with a wink, causing her to cock an eyebrow at him.

She looked briefly back over her shoulder, to the Templar guarding the door. She could have sworn she saw him quickly turn his head back to the bookcases.

They made their way over to the table with the giggling women; two humans with an air of snootiness to them, despite their lives as "lowly" mages.

"Ladies, I bring someone new to spice up the evening" the cocky mage announced to the women.

They ceased their giggling and card shuffling to watch Ariava carefully as she sat at the table next to her new acquaintance, their friend.

"Ah yes, we've seen you around before. Aren't you Irving's little pet apprentice?" one of the women commented snidely.

"Come now, she has a name. But how rude of me! I don't even know it myself" the rebellious mage chuckled. "I bet it's just as pretty as you are," he continued with another wink to Ariava. "I'm Anders".

"My name's-"

"Oh who can ever remember elven names. They're all SO complicated" the other woman drawled.

"You remembered Elris's easy enough" her friend teased, starting to deal the cards around the table.

"That's different," the woman protested "he was very easy to look at". The woman eyed Ariava up and down as she gathered her cards. "You two were close weren't you?"

"Oh yes!" her friend added in once more, throwing a few silver into the center of the table. "Inseparable if I recall! They used to sneak off together all the time to enjoy a quick romp... Such a shame to see him now".

Ariava was shocked to hear how well they knew of her history with Elris. He had been the only other elf in the tower, that she could recall. She hadn't seen his tranquil state around in a while. I wonder where they've taken him?

"That wasn't too long after the romping began was it?" the woman smiled flatly to Ariava, adding her own silver to the pool.

"I…" the large lump she found in her throat suddenly made it much harder to speak.

_How can they speak so openly about something they know so little about?_  Her sadness was soon replaced with frustration.

The shemlen women knew nothing of her and Elris' feelings for each other, nor of the sweet words they would whisper in the dark hours of the night. She thought of his cool blue eyes and long blonde hair, the softness of his hands and the grace of his magic. If there was one thing the insufferable women got right, Elris was indeed very easy on the eyes.

"Now now, this is not the time for such depressing conversation" Anders interrupted with a scolding look at his friends, before adding his own silver.

"Oh don't mind us, we were just getting to know our new friend since you now insist on bringing strays to the table" the cold woman smiled sweetly back at him. "Besides, she's got Jowan to keep her company now".

"He's my friend if that's what you mean" she stated calmly as she too laid out some silver.

Why these two shem persisted with their rudeness she never knew. Suddenly her mind flashed back to the river with Tamlen, to the excitement she had felt as he pressed his lips against hers. How happy she had been for all too brief a moment. She'd grown to not hope for much in the way of friendship in the tower, except for that of Jowan. Romance was certainly out the question. She'd never allow for her heart to be so vulnerable again, not after losing Elris to the rite of tranquility.

"Do tell dear, what on earth does he get up to when he sneaks around at night? He's starting all sorts of wild rumors" the two women giggled again to each other, before adding even more silver to the pool.

Memories had to remain as just that for now.

"What kind of rumors would that be?" Ariava queried suspiciously, eyeing the woman.

"My favorite is the one about him being a blood mage!"

Ariava's eyes widened at the accusation of her friend.  _Who do these shemlen think they are?_

"Rumors are just rumors. You don't help by repeating them! I can't count how many suggest I'm a maleficar" Anders scorned, glaring at his friends and adding to the pool.

"You're right, how foolish of us" the woman smiled unapologetically. She turned to Ariava, placing her cards upright on the table and smirking proudly at her strong hand. "Do forgive us dear, we meant no harm".

Ariava checked her hand one last time, and gazed back at the impossible shemlen woman's cards laid out before her.  _Oh-hoho! This is going to be fun_. Luck was on her side tonight.

"I believe it is I who should ask forgiveness," Ariava returned the smile and placed down her cards "for I believe it rude to take winnings before allowing the opponents to seek retribution, but alas…" she gathered up the pile of silver in the center of the table, "it is late, and the fade is calling me. Dareth shiral!"

Anders laughed heartily and applauded as Ariava stood smugly and placed the silver winnings in her pouch.

She walked to the door with her head held high, ignoring the exclamations of the women behind her and Anders half-hearted attempts to calm them.

She left her smile at the door along with her stride, as her thoughts started whirling with the things the ladies had said to her that evening. Elf. Elris. Blood magic.

She continued down the cold hall a few paces, exhaling angrily, before stopping to punch the stone wall as hard as she could muster.

"ARGH!" she exclaimed, as her fist met the solid stone.

She nursed her throbbing hand, swearing profusely under her breath at her own stupidity.

"Um, is everything alright?" a familiar voice interrupted the scene.

Blushing, she suddenly remembered that Cullen had been nearby and probably witnessed her ridiculous attack against architecture.

"I-" she stood upright and cleared her throat. "Well, someone had to teach this wall a lesson… It... needed to learn not to run it's big fat mouth on things it knows nothing about".

She knew she sounded utterly absurd, but decided to go with it. "Hopefully now it's learned it's lesson" she said matter of factly to the concerned templar.

Cullen chuckled and smiled at her. She was not expecting that reaction.  _Are templars allowed to laugh? Of course they are, stupid._  She berated herself for thinking otherwise. Cullen's chuckle soon came to a halt, and his smile changed to worry as he gazed down at her hand.

"You're bleeding…" he muttered quietly to her.

She looked down to her throbbing hand to find her knuckles covered in red and starting to drip slightly onto her robes.

_Fantastic._  Just another thing to add to the glorious evening she'd had.

Cullen removed his gauntlets and rummaged through his pack. She watched him curiously as he pulled out a white handkerchief and stepped towards her unexpectedly.

"It's clean, I swear" he smiled lightly at her and cautiously held out his hand.

Warily she placed her small, bloodied hand in his. His hands were warm and surprisingly gentle as they carefully wrapped the handkerchief tightly around her. She couldn't help but notice how large his hands were in comparison to hers, as he held the injured hand in-between his palms to confirm he had sufficiently tied the impromptu bandage.

"Thank you" she managed to say at last, looking into his hazel eyes and attempting to decipher their familiarity. They were the same hazel that had hesitated in bringing her to the tower all those years ago.

_He believed me. Does he feel bad for what happened?_

She noticed that he too was staring into her eyes, and that he still hadn't let go of her hand. They stood together in silence. Soon the scuffling of chairs in the library began to echo down the halls, awaking the two to the inappropriateness of the moment.

"I-I should return to my quarters. My shift is over." Cullen bowed, picked up his gauntlets and left without another word.

She watched him leave, confused and somehow exhilarated all at once. Looking down at her hand and admiring his work, she too left for bed before anyone could see them.

* * *

 

Clattering. Whispers.

Ariava woke to templars shaking her shoulder abruptly. Moodily, she rubbed her eyes, wondering what could be the reason for this rude awakening. The appearance of First Enchanter Irving revealed all she needed to know.

He smiled warmly at her.

"It is time."

* * *

* * *

 


	3. Brothers in Blood and Magic

" _You are a smart one."_ A dark voice echoed throughout Ariava's head.

 _"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the fade are preconceptions, careless trust… pride. Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests_ _**never** _ _end."_

The warning words of the demon from her Harrowing, haunted her still.

"Ari! Wake up! Please wake up…"

Her friend shook her slender shoulders lightly as she tossed and turned restlessly in her bed. Ariava was usually dead to the world when it came to sleep. She could often be found tangled amongst the sheets with her legs and feet poking out in odd places. The sight of this Ariava, tucked in tight yet wrestling with her dreams, unsettled her friend greatly.

"Come on Ari! Wake up" he pleaded to her.

"Die demon!" she yelled, rising with such force that she was sent careening from her bed, blankets falling atop her head. She fought hopelessly to stick her face out from her cushy captor.

"Calm down! It's just me! Are you alright?" the warm voice chuckled, lifting the sheets and peering in at her.

Raising her head and slowly opening her droopy eyes, she mustered a scowl at Jowan, proceeding to rub her sore ass in an overly dramatic manner.

"Ever the lady" he sighed at her with a smile, pushing the blankets back over her head. "What happened to your hand?" he queried, staring curiously at the handkerchief still wrapped around her hand.

"Ah yeah, bad card game… Let out too much steam against the wall. Next time I'll just attack a pillow" she joked, picking herself off the ground and slumping back onto her bed, as nonchalantly as possible. The last thing she wanted was for people to question the origin of the handkerchief.  _What would happen to Cullen if they found out?_

"I'm glad you're alright. They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night."

"Some friend you are" she nestled her head back against her pillow, confident her cover was safe as Jowan settled himself on the edge of her bed.

"I heard you finished in record time! What was it like? Was it as dangerous as it seems?"

"It was… harrowing"

"Oh ha-ha. What did you have to do? Show off your skills? Recite some texts?"

"Err… you could say that"

The Harrowing was obviously a secret for a reason. How many would rebel if they knew the truth? How many would turn out of fear or give in to the inevitable?

"Oh come on! You can tell me, I won't tell a soul!" Jowan pleaded.

"Urgh, fine. I'll give you a hint." She had never been one to obey the many rules of the tower. "Demon resistance".

_Ok, so a very big hint. I never wanted to be First Enchanter anyway._

"Demons?! We have to resist a demon? I guess that makes sense. No wonder they don't tell you much beforehand but, that just seems so… wrong." Jowan's face fell with worry.

She sat back up in her bed, leaning towards her friend. She hated seeing him like this: his shoulders slumped and his long brown hair falling in front of his eyes. She couldn't help but want to reassure him.

"Hey now, don't you worry. We both know you'll do just fine!" she rested her cheek against his shoulder and rubbed his arm warmly.

"I've been here longer than you have. What if they never call me for my Harrowing?"

"You'll probably be called any day now" she continued to try and comfort her friend.

"But what if they don't? What if they have other plans for me, something more… tranquil…"

"I won't let that happen to you". The defiance in her voice seemed to cheer him up, as he finally managed a smile.

"And now you get to move to the nice mages' quarters upstairs, while I'm stuck here running errands" he chirped. "Speaking of which, I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

Ariava's eyes rolled and she fell back against her pillow, throwing the sheets over her head in a lame attempt to hide herself from the world.

"What for?" she complained through the sheets.

"You'd better not keep him waiting. We can speak later" he chuckled.

She felt the mattress shift as his weight left the edge of her bed. The fade was calling her name again all too quickly, when suddenly the sheets were ripped off her bed leaving her cold and violently awake. She sat up angrily and scowled at Jowan's laughing form.

"Go! Now! Or I'll be the one who gets in trouble."

 

* * *

Congratulations were hailed from around every corner of the tower. It seemed everyone had heard of her speedy Harrowing, leaving most vastly impressed and others nervous at the prospect of following her act. She did her best to contain her wry comments, dreaming of her next visit to the rooftop.

She was nearing Irving's office when she found Cullen standing guard just down the hall from the mages' quarters.  _Has he been waiting for… me?_ She looked down at her handkerchief-wrapped hand.

"Oh, um, h-hello. I… uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly." he stuttered at her, as she drew closer.

"Hello, Cullen. Thank you again for-"

"Oh, um, don't mention it." He smiled briefly at her, hazel eyes glowing in the torch-fire before looking forlorn at his feet. "Th-they picked me as the templar to strike the killing blow if… if you became an abomination." Panic began to rise out of him "I-It's nothing personal; I swear! I… uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know."

Confusion hit Ariava once more. She'd never met a templar who seemed so apologetic for their role in the Harrowing, most reveling in the idea of a bit of action.

"I thought all templars liked killing mages" her response came out a little crueler than she'd intended.

"Maybe some, but not me. I would've felt terrible about it... It's normally my duty to hunt down apostate mages rather than attend Harrowings, but… I do both with a heavy heart. Especially when they're found by accident, a-and-"

"—taken away from their clan?" she finished for him with a knowing smile. It was hard to be too bitter towards the man who had hesitated in her capture, as much as she tried.

Cullen smiled warmly, relaxing his posture more than she'd ever seen before. It seemed like he had been carrying this weight around for a long time. Once more, she found herself staring at him, confused.

 _After all these years, why mention this now?_  The thought circled around in her head, daring to leave her mouth.

The echoes of chattering mages growing closer once more disrupted their moment together.

"I should stop distracting you from your duties, Irving is waiting for me anyway" she curtsied dramatically.

"Oh, you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but… well you're not. I mean, you can talk to anytime if you want. Uh… uh, yes. Maybe we can talk another time" he stuttered back, bowing his head lightly.

She couldn't help but cock her eyebrow and smile broadly at him as she walked away towards Irving's office. It felt politer than laughing at the bumbling sight that befell her. It made her question her hatred of the watchful guardians in the tower, made her query if the acts of a few could really reflect on a movement as a whole.

_Perhaps I was wrong about templars? Maybe they feel bad about their position? Maybe they had no choice? Perhaps-_

"… many have already gone to Ostagar-Wynne, Udlred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-"

 _Or perhaps a majority treats us like cattle._ She sighed to herself, striding into the musky office non-chalantly.

"Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

 _At least there's one voice of reason..._ She applauded him in her head as she strolled further into the study, crossing her arms cooly and observing the scene before her.

"How dare you suggest-" Greagoir spat back.

"Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you" a voice halted the heated debate.

A tall, tanned man with long black hair tied back into a small ponytail stood between the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. The other two men seemed to hold him with high enough regard to cease their arguing.

She smirked and raised a hand, wiggling her fingers in a wave. "You sent for me?"

"Come in, child" said the First Enchanter, smiling with the same warmth he always had in her presence.

First Enchanter Irving felt almost like a grandfather figure to the circle. He was protective, warm and fond of his students, yet fragile and stuck in his ways; the ways of the circle. Ariava had a soft spot for the man, his kind eyes and heart often being a source of comfort during her darker hours. She was all too aware however, that he was in charge... privy to the punishments and many other fates of mages.

"This is…?" the stranger stepped forward.

"Yes, this is she." Irving confirmed with an air of pride to his speech.

Her eyebrow cocked and arms uncrossed as she took in what she'd just heard.

The stranger had an earring similar to Anders', with large armor embossed with a Griffon and two daggers strapped to his broad back. The symbol seemed familiar, but she was struggling to recall how with the shock she was in.

"Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later." Greagoir growled, finding himself ignored completely now that she was present. He sauntered off through the door, glaring at her as he left.

"Of course. Well then, Ariava, I'd like to introduce you to Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

 

* * *

She found herself in two minds after the presentation of her mages robes. A part of her was proud. She was happy to have succeeded and succeeded so highly. Yet a strong part of her felt a loss at the idea of finally being considered a fully-fledged mage. It somehow felt more and more like her chances of leaving the tower were slipping out from her grasp, her freedom out of reach.  _A bird in a cage…_  She also couldn't help but ponder heavily over the discussions of war. She wanted to help, but also to run away. She wanted to fight and to hide. She wanted-

"Are you alright? You've been surprisingly quiet since we left Irving."

She suddenly remembered that she was in the company of Duncan, supposedly escorting him to his room, though she'd been a poor host while doing such. It was hard not to be lost in her own thoughts, especially while in the company of a Grey Warden. She'd read about them many times; heroes of the blight, blazing into battle on the backs of Griffons and sending the archdemon back to oblivion. Saviours of all living things.

"Would you not be, in my position?" she quipped, raising her eyebrow at him with a smile.

"I don't know, you had many strong opinions to share before." he chuckled lightly.

"Was I really that crass before?" she cringed slightly at her lack of manners. She hadn't found the news of her phylactery departing the tower the most pleasant, nor the continued inability to leave the tower; she'd felt free to tell Irving such. "I don't belong here…" she admitted under her breath, dropping her head.

"If I may, you don't seem like you were from an alienage."

Her ears perked as she faced him, intrigued. "What gave me away?"

"The slight accent, the dry manner, the clipped wings, not to mention the climbing…"

"Wait, how do you know about the climb-"

"Irving knows more than you think" he smiled warmly at her.

"Huh, figures."

"You do not like it here I take it?"

"The tower has its ups and downs," she joked, before continuing more seriously "some of us don't do well inside stone walls. If you're not… it can change you."

"I can only imagine."

They continued through the dingy tower to Duncan's room, talking of the trials and tribulations of war and how mages could prove a powerful ally for such, if only given the chance. She left Duncan feeling excited about the future, something she hadn't felt so strongly in a long time.

_Maybe my chances of getting out are closer than I'd thought…_

She'd barely made it around the corner when she spied Jowan struggling with a templar.

"I told you, I'm not up to anything! I'm just looking for my friend!" he asserted loudly down the echoing halls.

"She always in the Chantry, aye? Praying up a storm?" the templar shoved Jowan roughly against the wall as he spoke, towering over the timid mage before him. "I know what you're up to boy, don't think that-"

"That's enough Ser Biff! I'm right here!" Ariava ran forward and shoved the aggravated templar away from her friend, standing protectively between the fuming men. She may have been shorter than the men involved, but her height had never discouraged her from sticking to her guns.

Templar Biff glared back at her, exhaling heavily in anger. "I'm watching you" he spat, " **BOTH**  of you."

Ariava turned Jowan around and quickly pushed him towards the chantry door. She turned back over her shoulder and winked at the templar overly flirtatiously sending Biff into a fluster of frustration.

"What the  _ **hell**_  was that about?" she smacked Jowan lightly across the back of the head once they were finally out of Biff's sight and inside the chapel walls.

"Ow, you're worse than them, you know" he protested in a whisper to her scold. "I wasn't lying, I have been looking for you. I want you to meet somebody."

She looked at him suspiciously as he took her hand and led her through the dreary chapel. Attempts at stain-glassed windows lined the top of the ceiling, with colorful light lining the floor as the light shone through. Ariava couldn't help but notice how pretty it all seemed, how… serene.

"Why are you whispering? It looks very suspicious" she teased as they continued forward.

They made their way past the main altar, and to a small alcove with a delicate female statue standing steadfast amongst the dismal, grey stone.

"You better not be wasting my time. I'm a mage now after all" she carried on with her teasing.

Hiding in the alcove was a pretty young chantry initiate with short, auburn hair and skin as pale as moonlight. Ariava appraised the chantry sister before her with caution.

"My condolences" she bowed before the initiate with a large smirk on her face, trying her best not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Oh ha-ha very funny. You do realize that if anyone finds out we'd be in a world of trouble… I mean, I already know what the tower intends to do with me…"

"And what might that be?" she questioned, fearing the worst but braving an air of coolness.

"They're going to make me tranquil…"

She stared blankly at him, as her heart fell.

"They're going to take away everything I am! My dreams, magic, memories and my love for Lily… all gone! They'll extinguish my humanity"

"Irving has already signed for the rite, I saw it on Greagoir's table" Lily added.

"People… think I'm a blood mage, all because I've been sneaking off to meet with Lily". Jowan pleaded with her.

Ariava recognized the story all too well. Sneak around the tower enough, and vicious rumors begin to spout, as they had done for Elris. Fatal, floundering words from those with idle time or vile intentions.

"It's going to be alright, we'll get you out of here. You have my word." her voice was more confident than her heart.

She knew what they had to do in order for Jowan to have a clean escape. She and Elris had often discussed the same plan as they dreamed together of life without the circle, a life without restrictions; destroy the phylactery, only then can you be free.

_If only we had known, like Jowan does now…_

"Give me a moment, I'll be back with all we need."

 

* * *

She was returning to the chantry after collecting the necessary rod of fire, when she decided to take a daring detour to Irvings' office. Fuming with adrenaline, she strolled right in and wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Jowan fears he is to be made tranquil." she outright stated.

"You never have stepped around your matter at mind. I suppose he found out through the young initiate he dallies about with" he noticed her eyebrow raise suspiciously. "I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

She eased her body language and began to plead desperately with the first enchanter. "Please, I beg you. Don't do this to Jowan." She felt more vulnerable than she could ever recall.

"He's a blood mage. Greagoir has proof-and eye witness testimony. I cannot say more. Were it left to me, things might be different. But the Chantry…"

Her Dalish anger began to boil inside of her.

"The Chantry, the Chantry, the Chantry! All you seem to care about is the approval of the bloody Chantry! Since when did we decide to be born with magic? Since when did Andraste decide that all magic was the cause of evil? Since when-"

"I'm sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquility will happen" he affirmed with force.

"Greagoir must be making it up. He hates all mages" she continued to grasp at straws.

"I know that you must blame him for what happened to Elris, but that came as grievous mistake for all involved."

"You know this is wrong. I have nothing more to say."

She stomped away, tired of pleading with an inflexible pillar.

_I will not let this happen to Jowan, if it's the last thing I do…_

 


	4. Cry Freedom

_Destroy the phylactery, only then can you be free._

Ariava, Jowan and Lily made their way through the basement of the tower, slaying sentinels and spiders while dashing through the magical maze. At last, they found themselves in a room filled to the ceiling with little vials on shelves dewed with dust.

"We made it! Come on, it must be around here somewhere!" Jowan ran into the repository, happily searching up and down the shelves for his name with Lily soon following.

Ariava couldn't help but pause at the entrance. It was all so easy.  _If only my phylactery was still here…_

"Would you've destroyed yours were it not in Denerim?" Jowan seemed to have read her mind. She hated when he did that.

"No point in thinking on that now. Let's just find yours and get you out of here," she smiled warmly at her trusty friend "you lovesick lunatic". They grinned together. How long it had been since she'd seen him so carefree.

"Jowan! Jowan it's here! Right here!" Lily burst with joy.

"You found it! I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom." he ran to Lily and grabbed the phylactery out of her hands, beaming. "So fragile, so easy to be rid of it… to end its hold over me…."

He held out his arm for a while, staring oddly at the tiny glass vial, filled with the red of his blood. Ariava couldn't help but share his sentiment. How strange it seemed that such a small item could change the course of the future. He dropped the tiny vial, sending blood and glass splattering across the cold, stone ground.

"…and I am free" lost as to how to respond to this freedom, Jowan stared blankly ahead, before Lily cuddled up to him smiling warmly.

" **We**  are free" she corrected, wrapping her fingers around his as he turned to her.

"You're not free yet" Ariava added, trying hard not to roll her eyes. "Let's get you to the front gate, then we'll celebrate your freedom and happily ever after."

* * *

 

Ariava couldn't help but notice how templar-free the tower seemed to be tonight. They had not only found the phylactery without trouble, but were now just feet away from the tall, tower entrance.

"We did it! I can't believe it!" Jowan began, turning to Ariava with joy. "Thank you… we could have never have-"

"So what you said was true Irving" Greagoir and a troop of templars arrived at the damning scene, Irving trailing behind them.

"Would you believe me if I said we were simply admiring the fine gilding on the door of our cage?" Ariava attempted with a quirk of her lips.

"Pah!" Greagoir scoffed, choosing to ignore Ariava. "An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed, Lily." He took a few steps forward towards them, and glared closely into Lily's eyes as she cowered behind Jowan. "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then."

"Keep your false accusations to yourself! It's people like you that ruin the lives of the innocent" Ariava snarled.

Greagoir couldn't ignore her any longer, turning to her with a scowl. "And this one, newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle."

"No more so than your own templars" Ariava retorted, eyes fixed on his, her expression just as stern.

"You could have told me, Ariava." Irving intervened. "I'm disappointed in what you have demonstrated here today" his head fell, his eyes exhausted.

She stood stedfast, still staring at Greagoir even though her heart plummeted. Irving was the last person she'd ever want to disappoint, especially after he'd taught her so much.  _I guess the special lessons are over..._  Part of her had enjoyed being his favourite.

"You don't care for the mages! You just bow to the Chantry's every whim!" Jowan yelled.

Ariava couldn't respond. Her eyes left Greagoir's and fell to the floor, feeling Irving's disappointment flow through her.  _Did I do the right thing?_

"Enough! As Knight-Commander, I sentence this blood mage to death and the initiate to Aeonar, for scorning the Chantry and her vows" Greagoir ordered, grasping Ariava's arm and shoving her aside.

The templars made their way towards Lily, pushing Jowan aside roughly.

"No… please, no! Not there! I'll never last!" Lily begged.

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan yelled, running back in between Lily and the templars, brandishing a blade.

Ariava's eyes widened with shock. This was all too familiar.  _He can't be… not this way, no!_

"Jowan! NO!" her fear escaped her mouth.

Too late. Jowan dug the blade into his arm and was immediately surrounded by a terrifying bloody mist. He raised both his arms and sent the red mist careening over all who stood before them, knocking them all down in one eerily silent wave. It disturbed her how no one made a sound as they were hit by the mist of blood; their captors now unconscious upon the stone tiles.

"By the Maker… blood magic! H-how could you? You said you never…" Lily stammered, backing away from Jowan carefully.

He attempted to explain, "I admit, I… I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!"

"Nothing like a few scars and demons to improve your magic" Ariava quipped sarcastically.

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people… changes them…" Lily continued fearfully.

"I'm going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me…" he begged desperately.

"I gave you my heart, my trust… I was willing to sacrifice everything I believed for you… I… I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me."

Jowan turned helplessly from Lily to Ariava.

"Try not to trip over the templars on your way out" she jeered.

He stared at her with his mouth open, but without words. He was obviously longing for more of a response than she'd offered.

"Jowan just… go now. While you still have a chance" she gave in, defeated.

Despite feeling betrayed, she still didn't want him to become Tranquil. At least this way, she may never have to see him again. Jowan finally mustered some courage amongst his own self-loathing, nodded to Ariava, and ran out the large creaky door of the tower. Flown free of his cage.

With Jowan safely out of the tower, Ariava ran to and dropped at Irving's side, lifting his unconscious head into her lap as she attempted to check for injuries. Seeing the unconscious old man made her stomach twist even harder with guilt. Her eyes began to well up. She'd never wanted to hurt or disappoint anyone. She didn't want to let down her friend, or her mentor. She-

"Are you alright?" Irving began to stir slowly. Ariava felt some relief wash over her at his awakening. "Where's Greagoir?"

The Knight-Commander had already began picking himself up the floor, along with the other templars.

"I knew it… blood magic. I never thought him capable enough to overcome so many…" groaned Greagoir, dusting himself off.

"None of us expected this" Irving added as Ariava helped him to stand, arm slung over her shoulders.

"If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!" Greagoir yelled in response.

"I'm sure you'll think of something, you're a bright little Knight-Commander" Ariava retorted from under Irving's arm. She didn't like him yelling at Irving while he was still so frail.

"Urgh" Greagoir never did seem to be able to stand Ariava's constant need to express her wit. "You there, take the initiate out of my sight" he commanded to the small group of templars before turning back to Ariava. "And you. Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?"

"Do what you like, I stand by my decision to help Jowan" she responded casually as Irving made to stand on his own.

"You helped a blood mage escape!" Greagoir spat.

"What would you do if a friend was faced with a fate worse than death? Oh wait, silly me, you probably don't have any".

Greagoir began fuming. But before he could let out his steam-

"Knight-Commander, if I may…" Duncan, the Grey Warden approached the mine-field of a scene. "I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens." He placed a hand on Ariava's shoulder. "Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks"

"Me? A Warden?" Ariava sputtered.

"Duncan, this mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a serious lack of regard for the Circle's rules."

_Definitely not "teachers pet" anymore..._

"She is a danger. To all of us. I would not trust her."

"It is a rare person who risks all for a friend in need". Ariava looked up in bewilderment at Duncan.  _He understands..._  He smiled at her briefly. "I stand by my decision. I will recruit this mage."

"No! I refuse to let her leave unpunished!"

"Greagoir, mages are needed. This mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages-you know that. I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions."

"I simply cannot allow this Duncan, the rules of the Chantry must be abided."

"Then you leave me no choice Greagoir... I invoke the Right of Conscription. Ariava Surana  **will**  be coming with me".

"Are our rules nothing? Have we lost all authority over our mages? This does not bode well, Irving."

"Enough. We have no more say in this matter" Irving paused and smiled warmly at Ariava. "She would make an excellent Grey Warden."

Her heart warmed at the endorsement from the First Enchanter.

"Gather your things. We must make our way to Ostagar as soon as possible. You will be initiated there. I will explain more on the road."

* * *

 

It didn't take long to gather all she wanted of her belongings. In fact, there was very little she stuffed into her pack: A few rolls of parchment, her quill and ink, a couple of pages she had ripped out from some books she'd fallen in love with, what few coins she had and a small, white dress with gold embroidered leaves that resembled flames.  _I miss you mamae…_

She meandered her way back through the tower to its entrance, taking in all the sights and smells. After dreaming of getting away for so long, it was hard to believe that she found some parts of the tower endearing only now that she was leaving. As she grew closer to the door, she found Irving, Greagoir and Duncan deep in conversation, or possibly debate.

"Am I to leave the Circle forever?" Ariava quietly questioned to anyone who might hear.

"We never forget our apprentices. You will always have a place back here in the Circle." Irving smiled at her fondly.

"Thank you for everything, First Enchanter." she hugged the old man tightly but carefully, as he patted her head reassuringly.

"You have an opportunity to do as you've always dreamed. Do not squander it." He gave her one last squeeze before releasing her with an eye-wrinkling smile.

Once again, she found Duncan's hand on her shoulder, gradually leading her towards the door. As much as she tried to resist, she looked back at the hall she'd gotten so used to over the years. To her surprise she saw Cullen rushing into the entrance, doing his best not to make too much commotion in his clattering armor. His hazel eyes made contact with hers as she did her best not to appear too perplexed. Standing behind Greagoir, he didn't dare speak, but instead mouthed "Goodbye" with a bittersweet smile that she returned. Instinctively, her fingers began to fiddle with the handkerchief she still had wrapped (needlessly) around her hand.

"Come now, your new life awaits."


End file.
